


World Enough and Time

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny's very, very curious to discover why Peter flew into a rage and nearly killed a guy. Peter doesn't know what to tell him, because he doesn't know why either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Enough and Time

There's a cold dead weight in the pit of Peter's stomach as he walks into Johnny's dark bedroom. He hears Johnny click the door locked behind them, flick the lights on, and lean back against the dark blue of the door. 

Johnny doesn't say anything. He just stands there, arms folded across his chest, and watches Peter, like he's waiting for Peter to say something first.

Well, Peter's not going to, so he's going to have a long wait ahead of him. Peter doesn't even know what to say. He doesn't know what there is _to_ say.

He hugs his arms to his chest and leans back against Johnny's open window. He can hear the distant sounds of traffic, smells that peculiar mix of smog and grime and dirt that he associates with the streets of New York. He wishes he was out there, swinging wildly from skyscraper to skyscraper. There's nothing more exhilarating in the world.

He wishes he was anywhere but here. 

There's a cowboy boot thrown down carelessly on the floor. It's red and gold, and so very, very Johnny.

Peter stares at that so he doesn't have to look at Johnny.

"So you're just not going to say anything?" Johnny says quietly. "No explanation at all."

Peter doesn't answer right away. "I got nothing to say, Torch."

"You almost killed a guy, Pete." 

"But I didn't," Peter counters.

"I've never seen you like that before, Pete," Johnny replies. "Never."

Peter can hear it in his voice. The horror, the disgust, the loathing. He can't blame Johnny. He's disgusted with himself. He swallows, and tries to keep his voice from wavering. "Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."

There's a pause before Johnny answers. "Maybe I don't," he concedes. "Maybe I don't. I thought I did. I thought I knew you better than anybody."

"Guess you were wrong," Peter says cuttingly. He's steeling himself for it. Johnny's going to--he's going to leave, Peter knows he is.

"Why did you do it, Peter?" Johnny says softly. "C'mon, pal, just...give me an explanation."

Peter doesn't know why, exactly. He doesn't have an explanation to give.

The man. He'd. He'd hit Johnny _hard_ into a granite wall and then Johnny wasn't  _moving_ , wasn't _breathing_ , wasn't-- Peter'd thought he was _dead._ And he hadn't been able to think, hadn't been able to breathe _._ Johnny, dead. He _couldn't_ \--

Peter's world came tumbling down around him, the way it had when Uncle Ben--when George Stacy--when Gwen--when Harry--God. There were so many now. He'd been so very afraid that Johnny's name was going to be added to that list.

The list of people he'd failed, the people he hadn't been able to save, and just. Not Johnny. Anyone but Johnny. 

He'd just. He'd lost it. Completely. Consumed by a white-hot rage. He'd just wanted--wanted to hurt the guy the way he'd hurt Peter. He'd taken Johnny away, and Peter couldn't. Couldn't handle it. Couldn't deal with the thought of Johnny, still and pale and cold, and this was _Johnny_ , and Johnny shouldn't be cold, shouldn't ever be cold. It wasn't--wasn't _right_. Wasn't right the way it hadn't been when it had been Gwen who was--was broken.

Peter licks his lips. He has no idea how to put any of that into words, or if he even wants to. "I don't. I don't have anything to say, Johnny."

He can't bring himself to meet Johnny's eyes, but at the margins of his vision he can see Johnny rifle a hand through his hair. 

"Okay," Johnny says. "Okay. Was it--was it because of me?"

"I don't know," Peter says hoarsely, shaking his head slightly. "I really don't."

"Because I was--Sue says you thought I was dead. She says you were...screaming something about how he'd taken me away from you."

Had he been? Peter doesn't remember it very well. All he remembers is the rage. "Oh. Uh. Maybe I was." He ducks his head even farther to hide his face. He doesn't want Johnny looking at him. Wishes he could hide. Wishes he was anywhere but here.

"You almost killed a guy because you thought I was dead, Pete," Johnny says.

Peter can't figure out how Johnny feels about that. He sure as hell doesn't know how _he_ feels about it. He has no idea where it came from. Hadn't known he felt that--that _strongly_ about Johnny. That intensely. It's as surprising to him as it probably is to Johnny. 

He doesn't know what to do with that information, and he suspects Johnny doesn't either.

"I just want to know why," Johnny says.

"What do you mean why?" Peter scoffs. "I have--I have anger issues, and it isn't the first time this's happened, and I don't--I don't like losing people that I--" He catches himself. "I don't like losing people."

Johnny takes a step forward. 

Peter wants to beg him not to. He can't right now. He's so tired.

"Don't like losing people who you what, Pete?" Johnny prods. 

"I don't know," Peter replies wearily. "I don't know what I was going to say."

"You said this's happened before," Johnny says. "When?"

Peter remembers. After Gwen was murdered. That same all-consuming rage, clouding his vision, blinding him to everything but the desire--no, the _need_ \--to see Norman Osborn dead.

He remembers pounding his fist into Osborn's face over and over again as hard as he could. He remembers hearing the sickening crunch of bone beneath his merciless fist. He remembers not stopping until Norman was nearly dead.

He remembers how hollow and lost he'd felt when it was all over. After the accident, after Norman was dead at his feet. It hadn't solved anything. Hadn't done anything to quell the razor-sharp pain and desolation. 

Seeing Johnny dead...he had felt the same.

"Did I say that?" Peter evades. "I didn't say that."

"You did," Johnny insists, and takes another step towards Peter. "Pete. Tell me."

He doesn't know why he says it. Knows he shouldn't. "After Gwen died."

Johnny waits to see if he adds to that, but that's all he'll say. He regrets saying that much.

"You were in love with her," Johnny says. 

Peter shifts his weight to his other foot. "Yeah," he says. There's no harm in admitting that, is there? Everyone knows how much he loved Gwen. "Guess I was. So?"

"You reacted the same way when you thought I was dead. Seems important." 

Peter's not sure where Johnny's going with this. He stares down at Johnny's shiny black boots. They're covered in the red clay of the distant planet they'd been on. Johnny needs to clean them, Peter thinks distantly. Sue's going to get mad about the mess he's making on the carpet. "Does it? Why?"

"C'mon," Johnny says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "You know. You have to--you have to know."

"I don't know anything."

Johnny huffs out a laugh. "Nice to hear you admit it."

Peter shoots him a glare. "That's not what I meant."

Johnny's been inching closer, Peter's startled to note. He's almost within arm's reach of Peter. 

Peter wants to reach out a trembling hand and touch him, make sure--make sure he's really. That he isn't. He wants to make sure Johnny's really _alive_ , really _here_. 

But he steels himself, and doesn't move. 

Johnny doesn't say anything for awhile after that. Just stands there and watches him. Peter feels very self-conscious all of a sudden. He fidgets. 

"I can't tell if you're lying right now," Johnny says at last.

"I'm not," Peter says. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

Johnny reaches out to where Peter's got his hand resting in the crook of his arm, and then Johnny covers Peter's hand with his own.

It's like a spot of molten gold pressing against Peter's skin. He can feel tendrils curling out from it and coursing through his veins, spreading everywhere. Goosebumps prickling along his skin.

He swallows and looks at Johnny's hand almost wonderingly. Like he doesn't understand how this is possible.

"Pete," Johnny whispers.

Peter can't help it. There's just something in Johnny's voice, and he...makes a mistake. He looks up and directly into Johnny's eyes.

What he sees there makes his breath catch. He'd been expecting--he doesn't know what. Concern? Pity? 

But no. Johnny's eyes are dark and full of. Is that? It looks like--

Johnny's face is getting closer. Peter doesn't know what to do. He just freezes.

But then he finds that he's leaning closer too. Drawn irresistibly to Johnny. Couldn't fight it if he tried.

Then Johnny's mouth is on his, sweet and soft and pliant, and time drifts slowly to a halt. There's nothing, nothing in the world but the taste of Johnny's lips. Peter doesn't want it to ever end.

He melts into the kiss. Feels like he's coming undone, just from this. He reaches up his right hand, curls it around the nape of Johnny's neck, runs his fingers through the silky hair he finds there, bright and golden as sunlight.

The kiss is chaste, exploratory, both of them satisfied to simply map the shape of each other's lips. 

When Johnny breaks off the kiss, Peter whispers, " _Oh,_ " softly against his mouth. 

The edges of Johnny's mouth curve upwards. There's amusement in the depths of eyes so blue that Peter wonders how they can be real.

"Yeah, oh," Johnny whispers back. "You really didn't know?"

"No," Peter admits. He had no idea. He'd never--not consciously, at least--even considered the possibility of--of _this_. "I don't--no."

"I thought," Johnny says, frowning a little, "I thought it had to be. Why you--why you went so crazy when you thought I was dead."

"I think you're right," Peter confesses. "I just. I didn't know it."

Johnny snorts and bumps his forehead against Peter's. "You're really dumb, loser."

Peter can't even bring himself to get angry at that. "Yeah," he agrees. "I guess I must be."

"Guess we have a lot to talk about," Johnny tells him. 

"Tomorrow," Peter replies. "There'll be world enough and time. Tomorrow."

He slides his hands up to cup Johnny's face and kisses him again, and wishes it could last forever.


End file.
